Memories in the Rain
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [game: Angel's Feather, pre-canon] Shou only allows himself to remember the past in the rain. It's the only way he can move forward under the clear sky. But three times even that is impossible: in twice, he loses his family, and in the last he finds it.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Written for the Ultimate Fanfic Challenge 200 Prompts, prompt #62 – highschool.

Angel's Feather again (when will FFN read my email and add the category? :(). Shou is one of the main characters, who lost his parents at a young age and his adopted parents right before the first OVA. This is set in between that, so his adopted parents are still alive…though to my knowledge they were never named, so I've named the mother Hisako for now.

**.**

**.**

**Memories in the Rain  
Prologue**

Shou was the antithesis of rain in most senses of the word. He excelled at outdoor sports: soccer, basketball, baseball…things that often got in the way when it poured outside. He was almost always grinning: smiling, laughing, offering a hand – more like the sun in that aspect, that burning sun that managed to catch corner shadows. Even his name spelt a clear sky…and yet, those closest friends knew the first place to look for him in a murky day was by a window, looking out.

That day was a typical winter storm: droplets glittering and almost ice, banging on the window and the tin roof. Beyond them, the road was washed out, the grey looking even drearier with an almost invisible sheet of white covering it. But that was the sight he sought: an echo of the memories slowly rotting away within his brain.

He'd made the choice to remember and continue smiling on regardless, but it was on days where the sun stopped pretending that he threw down his mask as well. Because, just as the icy rain washed out the world, it washed him out as well…like the dreams he clung to stubbornly but couldn't keep: little wisps of smoke slowly sliding through his fingers and fading away.

On rainy days, he couldn't keep running about outside until he was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to think anything. On those days he couldn't push everything else aside and say he was happy. There were no distractions on those days: no ball coming his way for him to hit, or hand for him to grab and pull up to walk beside him. There was rarely even company on those days: the rain saw everybody bundled together and yet dispersed. At school, it would be a few students playing cards in the centre, a few more at their individual desks and everybody else loitering in the halls. Some might be in pairs, or little groups, but there was rarely any connection, any conversation. A chair or a book on one's lap made just as good company.

He didn't bother with the book; it was a façade that looked too strange on him. He wasn't much of a reader…though he usually wasn't much of a thinker either. He didn't give himself that time: he rushed everywhere, _ran_ everywhere, hurried through everything even if it meant things that required more attention (like his schoolwork) would up a little sloppier. It was his way of coping: his way of getting along with the world.

He'd hated the rain before his parents died; it was something that shut all the doors on him. Now it opened them. Now it was the freedom he couldn't give to himself otherwise. If he didn't run, he'd be trapped in those fading memories, trapped in that sadness.

It is the only time he allowed himself to regret.

**.**

_I told you to forget. I told you I'd remember for both of us. I do._

_I hope you did forget. After all…you always liked the rain, didn't you Kai?_

**.**

Hisako found her adopted sun by the living room window, sitting forward in the chair so his chin rested on the windowsill and his forehead on the glass. It hid his expression that way; it made it easy to pretend that sweet smile was still on his face, that the rain hadn't washed it away. But she knew it wasn't, even if she wasn't related to him by blood and could never take the place of his real mother.

It rarely ever mattered. He was their child, _her_ child, in everything but blood and young age – he was old enough to remember his family. But he never spoke of them. The only memento he kept was the pendant he wore around his neck, the one that sunk into the inner cloth of his shirt and hid itself from view.

Like the sadness that would be coated by smiles but never fade, it hid itself from everyone's sight, even hers. As a human she was relieved: a person's innate path was towards the future, and mementos of a dead past that wasn't hers made her a tad uncomfortable. But as a mother, _his_ mother even if not by blood, she wished he would share the pain he buried inside, instead of hiding it.

And he did, in a sense, on rainy days like that one where he'd let his well-crafted façade fall: a façade so carefully made that it was only because she lived with him, saw him so often, that she knew it to be a mask. It wasn't false: she couldn't call it a lie. It was simply his way of moving on…just like the silent vigil with old dregs of memories by the windowsill was his way of letting loose.

And because he didn't cry, simply stared with an expression she never saw at the rain and how it washed out the world, she couldn't embrace him and chase the demons in dreams away. She wasn't supposed to, not when those dreams were what he clung to, he remembered at times when there was nothing else to distract. Because they, those things he didn't share with anyone, were as important as the happier times to him, and she respected that. Instead, she watched him from afar until he turned to her with a smile. And then she'd pretend not to have seen, instead tousling his hair and smiling herself as she sends him on his way.

If she knew beforehand it would rain, she would bake something as well. Particularly when it rained on the way home from school, so the warm smell would waft through to the door as soon as it opened to the washed-out image of the world. A nice sweet cake, or brownies fresh from the oven and dripping chocolate, so she could watch Shou get it all over his fingers and laugh truly, like he always did, and she could add another happy memory to her scrapbook, just like a real mother would.

It was only when he stared at the rain did she remember that he wasn't hers, that she could never replace his real family…even if he did call her "Mum", even if he did come home to her every day, and kiss her on the cheek when he left for school or sports and returned. Those times it was easy to call herself a mother, _his_ mother, and she couldn't be happier…but when he was remembering his family,

**.**

_I called you "Mum" because I think of you as my mother._

_I have another mother too, in my memories. Is that okay?_

**.**

He felt her standing there before he saw her: the woman he called his mother, who _was_ his mother now, even if she could never replace the one he'd lost. And she was a wonderful woman; he couldn't have asked for better. She knew when to leave him be and when to reel him close. She knew when he wanted to be alone, and when he wanted company.

She also knew about the rain, and his vigil thereof. And if he was at home when it started, she would be watching from afar, careful not to step into his space and disturb the spell but near enough still for comfort – the comfort that she was still there: real, _alive,_ and not a memory washed out by time like the rain. And it was comforting for her as well, to be near as though she could sweep a child into her arms and her warmth would drive all demons away.

But they weren't demons he chased after, but irreplaceable memories. Memories he'd sworn heedlessly to protect…and now struggled to do so. Struggled because it hurt to remember: hurt to think about parents now gone, about a brother living his life out elsewhere in the world, forgetting him…

He'd been the one to tell his brother to forget; that he didn't regret. Sometimes he did wish he hadn't promised to be the one to remember: to remember meant to carry that weight, and by running until he wore himself out he could flee from it…for a time. But the storms that kept the world indoors and made the outer scene fade into grey was the time he remembered: where he couldn't run away anymore and instead surrendered. Where he fulfilled the promise made years ago, on a rickety bed in an orphanage, the last night he'd slept beside his brother.

Sometimes, he wished he hadn't made such a promise, so he could be free of that burden as well. But that was only on those days where it filled his mind and soul, where the pendent he wore dragged his head down with its weight. After that, when the sun peaked out from behind clouds and the sky became clear and his mother tousled his hair and brought an unconscious grin to his face, he decided it was worth that moment of sadness and regret and mourning, because he could turn away from the windowsill and see his mother there with a smile on her face, and one day he might see the brother still out there behind the rain too.

**.**

_I said I'd remember. Sometimes, I wished I hadn't; it hurts to remember._

_But I knew that; that's why I said I'd do it. So I could protect you from that, little brother._

_And, one day, we'll meet again and I'll remind you, so we'll both suffer a little less._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A new chapter – and celebrating the shiny new category that needs more authors than just me in it. :D There are a few fics in the misc category from other authors, but those authors aren't on the site anymore. :(

Shou has a dog at the beginning of the first OVA. Who knows what happens to it, or where it came from. But it's there. Same dog I introduce in this chapter. And the kendo uniform is made of a uwagi (the top part) and a umanori type hakama (the bottom part, that's split like trousers). And now Shou's adopted father needs a name. Cheigo popped into my head so Cheigo it is. Also not sure what year they're supposed to be in, so I've put them in ninth grade (end of junior high school).

I explain a little of the issue of Shou's birth parents in this chapter. That is also canon (with a tint of head canon). As for the details…that might constitute a spoiler so I'll save that for PM.

And exactly one month between updates. Lol, I'd told myself _roughly_ one month.

**.**

**.**

**Memories in the Rain  
Chapter 1**

**.**

Puddles decorated the ground and Shou fought down a grimace as he squelched his way across the park. The rain had tapered off, but the way it ran through the fragile image of the world still remained. Now though was not the time to drown in memories; unlike the times of torrential rain before a window and stillness behind, the world was in motion again.

And so was he, juggling his sports bag and kendo gear and trying to avoid getting too muddy. It occupied his mind easily enough, occasionally coloured with curses from others in a similar predicament, or the giggles of little kids who didn't care how much of their boots and coats were muddied – and he wouldn't care too much either, except he was on his way to Kendo practise and the instructor always frowned at a less than impeccable presentation. A lack of respect to the sport, he said.

And his students could respect that. It simply meant he had to step a little more carefully through mud and puddles, balancing the weight of his two bags. But that was his fault as well: he'd been the one to volunteer a soccer scrimmage after Kendo practise – assuming the instructor didn't have them do squats again. Last time they could barely walk – and yet walk they had to, because every person in the world despised staying still. Except the ones who'd given up on life and the world.

Rain was like the grim reaper and the sun that came out thereafter, shining harshly off puddles and painting the grey with a rainbow of colours was the harsh slap of life. It was a random thought that had once struck him in a moment of melancholy, and he kept it even now. Kept it even as he winced when some mud splashed on to his hakama and stayed there. Kept it even as he spotted Naoto bent over under a tree and put a grin on his face.

It was impossible to sneak around in the mud and Shou didn't even bother to try; he hated that anyway. Instead he yelled out the other's name.

Naoto straightened and grinned. 'Yo,' he said, waving the other over. 'Help me out here.'

Shou blinked and went over. 'What is –' he began, before staring at the little puppy Naoto was crouched beside. It looked white – or specked brown. It was hard to tell with all the mud, even if the recent rain had made it run. Even more so because it was still moving, getting itself even muddier. 'What the hell?'

'Bullies.' Naoto shrugged. 'That old boy scared them off.' He pointed at his kendo stick, now propped against a tree with its base slowly getting stained with brown. 'Except now this little pup won't let me pick it up.'

He reached for the puppy again to illustrate his point, and it made a weak snap at his fingers.

Shou shook his head. 'You look like you're going to attack the poor puppy.' And, while it was a jest, it was also a fair point. Naoto was dressed in the same sort of uniform as him: blue uwagi and black hakama, but he'd also tied his slightly longer and far darker brown hair into a ponytail and added a headband to keep the fringes away. He looked more threatening than he was as a result.

Shou wasn't a whole lot better, but at least his hair was still free. Though he had his fingerless gloves on too. He took those off, stuffing them into one of the numerous small pockets on his soccer bag before forcing his kendo stick in as well, then crouched down carefully. Naoto had taken no such caution, and the legs and seat of his hakama were soaked with the mud. The puppy growled and snapped at him too, but Shou accepted the bite. He'd expected it, and while it mightn't have hurt at all if he'd left the gloves on, it was weak and frightened and lacking any malicious intent. And when the puppy looked up, Shou met its gaze.

It didn't take long for the jaw to loosen and the head to drop, and Shou carefully scooped it up. Naoto leaned over and stared, before sprouting a pout. 'Why is he such an angel with you?'

'Because I don't scare him off with that gangster look,' Shou grinned back, though he knew that wasn't the reason at all. Naoto was a teddy bear deep down; it was Shou who always got into fights and sprouted cuts and bruises…but he jumped into trouble without thinking so he could protect people, or animals. Often, those were people he had absolutely nothing to do with, animals he'd never crossed paths with before. He didn't have pets; he cared for strays sometimes, for a little while, before dropping them off at the shelter. His adopted parents didn't mind; they asked if he wanted to adopt the pet instead. He didn't, and they accepted that. Just like they accepted the memories of the past hid behind smiles on sunny days and came out during the rain.

Naoto knew that as well. Not as well as his adopted parents, but Naoto was a close friend. He knew the parents Shou lived with weren't his birth ones. He knew that his birth father was a mystery, down to the man's name. He knew that the only shreds of knowledge he had of his mother was the red pendant he wore under his clothes and the knowledge that she'd died trying to protect them: him…and his little brother.

But they were infants at the time and could hardly have defended themselves.

'Yo.' Naoto's voice was too loud in his ears, and Shou's balance wavered a little. 'What are you drifting off for?'

'I'm not,' Shou replied, standing up. Though he had been, even if they didn't really have the time for that. The puppy in his hands yowled a little in pain as it squirmed, and Shou carefully stood. Naoto stood as well, grabbing his things. 'I guess I'll drop – ' A surreptitious check under the tail. ' – him home with 'kaa-san.'

Naoto rolled his eyes. 'How'd I know you were going to say that,' he said rhetorically. 'Guess I'm coming with.'

'Sensei will be annoyed at the both of us,' Shou warned. It was a moot point though; Naoto's uniform was going to get him scolded even if he got to the dojo on time.

It was going to be a chore keeping his own hakama and two bags clean. Shou was just glad they both had straps so he didn't need his hands to hold them.

**.**

Shou might have underestimated the instructor of the dojo, or one of the other attendees had spotted them with the soaked and possibly injured puppy and given their excuses. The instructor simply nodded and let him in after a quick glance; Shou's hakama had a few spots of mud on it, but it was no worse than the other boys lined up.

Naoto on the other hand, with the mud obvious even in the black colour, was subjected to a fierce glare before ordered on the side lines. Shou offered a sympathetic shrug before lining up. He could see the younger class in progress at the back, and Naoto was looking over there as well. But they were nearing the end of junior high and were expected to be more careful.

Though the instructor wasn't unreasonable. He'd said nothing about the few flecks that everyone had on their hakama. Flecks that looked dull despite being so similar in colour, that were slowly drying in the warmth of the dojo and dusting the polished wood with even finer specks. Specks that clung to their bare feet once they started their warm-up exercises: jogged around the room before speeding up into a sprint and then drifting off into more mobile activities and, finally stretches.

Naoto got a brief scolding and then joined them, doing his laps a little more hurriedly than them but being mindful all the same. Muddy clothes were one thing, but rushing through warm-ups could mean a strained muscle and any avid sportsman or martial artist knew to avoid that. Shou was both; Naoto leaned more towards the latter. Both of them knew the importance of warming up.

Serious training followed; not power training that would have them all hobbling home, but speed and technique that were equally important. Shou could never pick things like that up with just one presentation, but the feeling of doing it again and again was satisfying and it wrote the motions neatly into his mind. Callouses always came out of skills lessons like this one, but he didn't mind. There were plenty less painful things to occupy one's mind; he knew what he enjoyed.

He and Naoto practised together; the last time they'd been partnered up with different people, Naoto's partner had gone off with a broken finger. Accidental, but they'd been training together since they were in the junior class, from their elementary school years. Naoto, who didn't often fight outside of martial arts classes and tournaments, too often underestimated them.

Shou, who did get into unofficial fights quite often, knew better how and when to pull his punches. Which was never against Naoto, who would take advantage of the opening and leave him with a broken finger and a bruised ego.

An annoyed sigh from Naoto told Shou the other boy was holding himself back from doing just that again. 'You're drifting off again,' he said. 'Geeze, you're always sleepwalking after it rains.' He tapped his kendo stick against his leg. 'Get into stance already; let's see how well you've managed that new move.'

Naoto might come out sharp, but Shou knew he wouldn't strike until he knew his opponent was ready. 'Right,' he said, straightening himself and slipping into the greeting stance. Naoto mimicked him and they bowed in unison before dropping into fighting stance.

The mud on their hakama didn't look as ridiculous as it might have if they were a different colour. Shou soon forgot about it as he was forced to devote his utmost attention to his technique and opponent. He'd sparred enough times with Naoto to know that, while he wouldn't start a match until his opponent was ready, he wouldn't notice any lapses of attention _within_ the match until the opponent was sprouting a bruised or broken appendage.

'Ready?' Naoto asked.

Shou adjusted his grip and grinned. 'Ready.'

**.**

They did wind up playing soccer afterwards, letting their kendo uniforms get as muddy as they liked since they needed to be washed anyway and letting their muscles worked until they felt like they had the consistency of noodles because they needed to be loosened up after the skills class they'd just had. The puddles were still there, but smaller and murkier than they'd been two hours before. Right when the rain had stopped they'd been pure and reflecting; now, they were simply being sucked into the earth.

Naoto didn't call Shou out on his lapsing attention again, nor did Shou find his thoughts straying off. The match had given him a good run for his money even if few of them shared a place on the soccer team and could truly compete. It was always fun though, to be able to play without standards in place – where he could trip over a hastily tied shoelace and fall on his face in the mud and only be laughed at. Competition was a different environment, where silly mistakes one could laugh at in luxury were paid for too dearly – but in it existed a drive he could find in no other setting.

Naoto came home with him afterwards. Said he was curious about the puppy and Shou believed him; he probably was. He'd scared the bullies off after all – though the question as to whether he'd have actually fought for said puppy still remained. If it was a friend, Shou had no doubt Naoto would defend them, but strangers were a different story. There were things not worth sacrificing for them.

He always said Shou had an older brother complex, trying to protect the fragile looking and weak. And he did, because that was the sort of person he remembered his brother to be: smaller, thinner, paler, kinder and more tender. But Shou had never told that to Naoto, never mentioned his brother. From that time they were separated at the orphanage, when the younger twin had been adopted and elder left behind left behind, Kai was a memory for Shou and Shou alone.

**.**

The puppy was more or less fine. Drenched by the rain and stained brown by the mud, but Hisako had given him a warm bath to make that fur white again and wrapped him snugly to drive off the chill. The only problem left was his appetite; as she explained to the two boys, the puppy wasn't drinking the water she'd offered, or milk, or the leftover dog-food they had from the last stray Shou had picked up.

'I asked Cheigo to pick up some medicine from the vet on his way home,' she explained, setting the rejected bowel down after her latest attempt. 'But I don't think that's the problem here.'

Shou inched forward and Naoto hung back; Naoto didn't mind animals in the least, but they didn't get along with him like they did with Shou, and he had no intention of aggravating a puppy who didn't look like it could stay standing for more than a few seconds.

'Here boy.' He offered a hand. The puppy glared at him weakly but didn't sniff, didn't search for an identity, or recognition. He took the offered bowel of water from his mother and tried with that, but got the same result. 'Guess he's not too fond of people.'

'That might be because those little brats were kicking him around.' Naoto was tapping his kendo stick against his thigh, the mud on his hakama now dry and leaving little flakes on the carpet. No-body noticed – or if they did, nothing was said. 'Makes you wonder why; they obviously didn't want a fight.'

After all, they'd fled when they saw him and his kendo stick – or maybe they'd recognised the ninth grader as someone out of their league. Shou had expected them to be older, but he wasn't naïve enough to think the youngsters of the world were kind. He'd spent the earliest moments he remembered in an orphanage after all, where it was Kai behind him and the world in front.

Except now it was Naoto behind him and a shivering and pale looking dog in front, and Shou's task was to get something in to his stomach before he truly got ill.


End file.
